A common man marvels at uncommon things. A wise man marvels at the commonplace. CONFUCIUS

Saturday, 3 November 2012

Plogsland

I've lived in many different places, but I was born in Lincolnshire, raised in Lincolnshire and for the past ten years have lived in Lincolnshire (or, to be exact, on the border between Lincolnshire and Nottinghamshire). This county (one of England's largest, one of its flattest and one of its most depopulated) doesn't exactly draw me — well, not in the same way as Dante to Beatrice, or Tristan to Isolde, or Abélard to Héloïse. More like a tube of iron filings is attracted to a magnetic field, maybe — prosaically, unromantically, habitually. Today I marched another short stretch of Lincolnshire's most well-known trail, the Viking Way, and revisited once more the barren fenlands and ploughed-earth flatlands of my youth.

In Woodhall Spa I dawdled in tea rooms and bakeries, waiting for the torrential downpour to end. The uniform sky stretched monochrome-grey from horizon to horizon. I put on my Goretex gear and set off reluctantly down the path. Immediately I knew yet again why I loved walking, even in the rain. All my niggling little cares and worries had slipped away and my head felt light. I was really enjoying the simple, autumn-tinged walkway out of Woodhall Spa — across the golf course, through the woods and past this magnificent oak tree...

The path led through woodland and over a golf course...

... to this gate with its reassuringly familiar Viking helmet marker.

I gained the old trackbed of the Horncastle and Kirkstead Railway at Sandy Lane. This disused railway line is now a cycleway, bridleway and walkers' route, known as the Spa Trail. The fallen leaves were pleasing to walk on...

Here's a signboard highlighting the sculptures to be found along the way...

I passed this striking artwork made of galvanised steel. It had now stopped raining and for the rest of the afternoon the sun came out in fits and starts.

Looking down at my feet (how often we miss what's happening down there!) I was struck by this random pattern of colourful leaves...

The tree-lined pathway continued its delightful progress...

... unveiling wooden sculptures of fractal forms...

I eventually came to the small market town of Horncastle. A place, I admit, I would not like to frequent often. You know those films where a stranger enters a pub in the back of beyond and the locals suddenly go all quiet and sinister? Well, I had a pretty similar experience entering Horncastle's Market Square dressed in a bright blue Berghaus rainshell and waterproof trousers, with a rucksack on my back and a camera round my neck. I mean, those incredulous faces didn't just latch onto mine and stay latched — their jaws dropped too, and they remained dropped...

St Mary's Church, Horncastle.

Far away I'd seen a hint, a suggestion, a faint whisper of hills beyond Horncastle as I'd approached the town. Low — yes. Treeless — certainly. An illusion — probably. Yet my heart and soul yearned for some higher distance and airier spaces. 'Touch wood' I'd reach them soon. I seemed to remember that John Hillaby in his book Journey through Britain had described this part of the country as 'plogsland' — a word that had always conjured up for me a picture of plodding and slogging and bogginess. Undeterred, however, I plogged on...

That shiny sculpture is great! The tea rooms and bakeries sound awesome too, and remind me that it's time I headed into town for Sunday breakfast.

You know, we say "touch wood" in Australia too (well, people of a certain age do) - but try it in America and people won't know what you're talking about. It's up there with "fortnight" for its ability to mystify.

As always, I found vicarious pleasure in seeing the photos and reading about this walk. I must also remember this word, "plogland." I've plogged through that terrain on many occasions, both literally and metaphorically.

What a cool walk! I love the galvanized steel artwork seemingly out in the middle of nowhere, the color of the leaves and oh, how I related to walking into a country pub to the coldness and stares of the locals as they react to a stranger in their midst. And, I understand all too well that yearning for higher ground. Thanks for sharing this wonderful walk.

Thanks for reading, Gail. And can I say right now how much we in the UK are feeling for you over there in the US, particularly for those whose lives have been so catastrophically affected on the eastern seaboard.

I Just found your interesting blog whilst reading Postcard from Timperley, and have added you to my bookmark list.

Woodhall Spa caught my eye. I stayed there in 2010 on my attempted walk from Lowestoft to St Bees Head. The walk was aborted on day 28 after I fell descending Nan Bield Pass in The Lakes and cut a vein in my leg. I managed to walk out to Patterdale. The walk was then renamed The Broads to The Lakes.

Here is my journal entry for Woodhall Spa:At Woodhall Spa I rejected the first site which appeared to be a mess in somebody's back yard. I found the Camping and Caravan Club site. I went into town (a sort of imitation mini Harrogate failed).Bought some Tyrozets (thanks Tom) and some stuff called Iglu for my sunburnt lips. Iglu puts on a pseudo layer of skin which is almost impossible to get off and made me look like a monster. I ate in the tent - InstantPotato and corned beef hash followed by fruit salad, coffee and biscuits.

Your Nan Bield Pass story reminds me of my own visit there. I'd hiked half the Kentmere Horseshoe to Thornthwaite Crag, then rashly decided to descend to Mardale via High Street and Rough Crag. The climb back up to Nan Bield was arduous in the extreme, and I was very tired, so I abandoned my plan of completing the Horseshoe and retreated back down to the Kent valley.

BTW, some mates and I camped in that Woodhall Spa campsite one wet weekend just over forty years ago!

The steel sculpture is indeed striking. I wonder how it managed to brave the harsh weather condition and still look as though it is on the same condition it was erected. Very ingenuous of the artist. Kudos to the guy, whoever he is.

ARAGÓN VALLEY

In every walk with nature one receives far more than he seeks. JOHN MUIR

QUOTES

I walk, therefore I am. PIERRE GASSENDI

Only that day dawns to which we are awake. HENRY DAVID THOREAU

We are here on the planet only once, and might as well get a feel for the place. ANNIE DILLARD

I can only meditate when I am walking. When I stop, I cease to think; my mind works only with my legs. JEAN-JACQUES ROUSSEAU

Perhaps the truth depends on a walk around the lake. WALLACE STEVENS

The longest journey begins with a single step. LAO TZU

Good walking leaves no track behind it. LAO TZU

A good traveller has no fixed plan and is not intent on arriving.LAO TZU

One step at a time is good walking.CHINESE PROVERB

I like long walks, especially when they are taken by people who annoy me. FRED ALLEN

If you are seeking creative ideas, go out walking ... Angels whisper to a man when he goes for a walk. RAYMOND INMON

Wandering re-establishes the original harmony which once existed between man and the universe. ANATOLE FRANCE

The longest journey a man must take is the eighteen inches from his head to his heart. ANON

Not all those who wander are lost. JRR TOLKIEN

It is solved by walking. ST AUGUSTINE

Walking, ideally, is a state in which the mind, the body, and the world are aligned, as though they were three characters finally in conversation together, three notes suddenly making a chord.REBECCA SOLNIT

The longest journey is the journey inward.DAG HAMMARSKJOLD

We carry within us the wonders we seek without us. SIR THOMAS BROWNE

I only went out for a walk, and finally concluded to stay out till sundown, for going out, I found, was really going in.JOHN MUIR

In the midst of winter, I finally learned that there was in me an invincible summer. ALBERT CAMUS

The only thing I knew how to do / Was to keep on keepin' on like a bird that flew. BOB DYLAN

Ain't talkin', just walkin'. BOB DYLAN

Every day I walk myself into a state of well-being and walk away from every illness. I have walked myself into my best thoughts, and I know of no thought so burdensome that one cannot walk away from it. SØRENKIERKEGAARD

Every day is a journey, and the journey itself is home. MATSUO BASHŌ

The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeing new landscapes, but in having new eyes. MARCEL PROUST

If the doors of perception were cleansed, every thing would appear to man as it is: Infinite. WILLIAM BLAKE

SAINT-PRIVAT D'ALLIER

I think that I cannot preserve my health and spirits, unless I spend four hours a day at least — and it is commonly more than that — sauntering through the woods and over the hills and fields, absolutely free from all worldly engagements. HENRY DAVID THOREAU

VIA FRANCIGENA

It is not down in any map; true places never are. HERMAN MELVILLE

ELIXIR OF LIFE

We should be low and lovelike and lean each man to the other / And patient as pilgrims, for pilgrims are we all. WILLIAM LANGLAND

THE CAT WHO WALKS BY HIMSELF

This may be one of the under appreciated pleasures of travel: of being at last legitimately lost and confused. REBECCA SOLNIT

TOP CAT, TOP HAT

We are fallen in mostly broken pieces, I thought, but the wild can still return us to ourselves. ROBERT MACFARLANE

LAKE DISTRICT

Getting lost is our best defence against being lost. ADAM PHILLIPS

SWISS ALPS

Arrival, like origin, is a mythical place. REBECCA SOLNIT

GLASTONBURY

All the darkness in the world cannot extinguish the light of a single candle. ST FRANCIS OF ASSISI

SOURCE OF THE LOUE

Discover the world in which you already live. WALTER BENJAMIN

CLOCHER COMTOIS

My monastery is the world. HARRY MULISCH

WATER LILY

It has been a savage enough pilgrimage... I feel a stranger everywhere and nowhere... Rip the veil of the old vision across, and walk through the rent. DH LAWRENCE

Let me drink from the waters where the mountain streams flood / Let the smell of wildflowers flow free through my blood / Let me sleep in your meadows with the green grassy leaves / Let me walk down the highway with my brother in peace / Let me die in my footsteps / Before I go down under the ground.BOB DYLAN

There is no greatness where simplicity, goodness and truth are absent. LEO TOLSTOY

The one thing necessary, in life as in art, is to tell the truth. LEO TOLSTOY

There is a life-force within your soul, seek that life / There is a gem in the mountain of your body, seek that mine / O traveller, if you are in search of That / Don't look outside, look inside yourself and seek That. RUMI